


Pull Apart the Dark

by Agapostemon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, mutual hurting and mutual comforting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Shiro is made of faraway stars, twinkling in the vast emptiness of open space.And sometimes it feels like the void is swallowing him alive.Especially on days like today, when a hollow pain shoots through his arm, extending past the point where flesh and bone end. It’s an intangible kind of pain, the sort that makes him want to claw his skin away and press ice against raw nerves and aching bones.------OR: Shiro and Keith bond over chronic pain





	Pull Apart the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Enduring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787460) by [prettyshiroic (kcgane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic). 



> Written for the [VLD Fanfiction Remix](https://vldfanficremix2017.tumblr.com/). It was an absolute pleasure to remix this fic. The original really left an impact on me, and I had the biggest craving to write Keith and Shiro bonding over chronic pain feels.
> 
> You should definitely read the original when you get the chance, but in case you haven't yet: the premise is that Keith has undiagnosed chronic pain. Also, there's a lot of platonic bonding and beautiful elemental metaphors.
> 
> Title is from [In the Embers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5M1L12m7YoM) by Sleeping At Last.

_Keith is made of fire._

Shiro can see it in his eyes, all inflamed with the burning flames of fire. Everything he does seems to be fueled by fiery passion. He pilots like a forest fire, rushing ahead and incinerating everything in his path. And his curiosity is like a steady candle, burning late into the night. Even during the quiet moments, his affection is like the warm flicker of a fireplace.

And sometimes, his pain engulfs him like a house fire, threatening to burn away everything he cares about. But he always emerges from the flames, smoldering but intact. Shiro has seen it time and time again. The way he refuses to let his pain be the enemy. It never quite goes away, but he always emerges from the inferno.

Shiro is not made of fire. Shiro is made of faraway stars, twinkling in the vast emptiness of open space.

And sometimes it feels like the void is swallowing him alive.

Especially on days like today, when a hollow pain shoots through his arm, extending past the point where flesh and bone end. It’s an intangible kind of pain, the sort that makes him want to claw his skin away and press ice against raw nerves and aching bones.

But there’s no skin to claw at. Only metal. So instead, he takes his Galra arm off and holds an ice pack against the place where his own arm ends, just below the elbow. He holds his breath and hopes futilely that maybe the cold will shock his body into remembering that part of him no longer exists, and things that don’t exist shouldn’t be allowed to hurt.

This thought process is interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open. It’s Keith, of course. He’s never been much for knocking. Heck, back at the Garrison he often skipped the door entirely in favor of crawling in through the window.

Shiro shoots his friend a strained smile, “Hey buddy, what’s up?”

Keith just frowns, eyes locked on the ice pack in Shiro’s hand, “You’re in pain.”

Shiro shakes his head and sets aside the ice pack, “It’s nothing.”

Keith’s frown doesn’t budge, “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

 _It is compared to what you go through_ , Shiro thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he just lets out a bitter laugh and holds up the stump of his arm, “Tell that to my nonexistent hand. If that isn’t _nothing_ , then I don’t know what is.”

Keith tries to suppress a smile by deepening his scowl, which mostly just looks ridiculous. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, do I now?” responds Shiro, eyebrows shooting up.

“Being in pain isn’t ‘nothing,’” Keith scolds, “Isn’t that what you keep telling me?”

Which… is true. But that’s _different_. Or at least, he wants to believe it’s different. If he opens up to Keith, he’s afraid the void will swallow them both. He frowns up at his younger friend. Keith is fidgeting where he stands, a sure sign that Shiro isn’t the only one in pain.

Shiro sighs and pats the spot beside him on the bed, “Come sit down.”

Keith gladly obliges, thinly-veiled relief showing on his face.

“You’re in pain, too,” Shiro says, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

Keith practically melts beneath his touch, but his scowl remains.

“What did you come to talk to me about?” Shiro prompts gently.

“It’s nothing,” Keith shakes his head, averting his eyes.

“Doesn’t _seem_ like nothing. Why’re you actually here?” Shiro presses.

“So… what? _Your_ pain is allowed to be nothing, but mine isn’t?” Keith retorts, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Shiro frowns, “Whether I’m in pain or not, it shouldn’t be your responsibility to take care of me. What do _you_ need, Keith?”

“I wanted to talk to someone who understands, okay!” Keith’s voice cracks as he pulls away from Shiro’s touch, “But obviously you don’t wanna talk about it, so… never mind.”

“Of course I want to talk about it,” coaxes Shiro, tentatively reaching out for his friend’s shoulder again, “I’m always here to listen.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Keith responds sullenly, shrinking away from the touch, “Why don’t _you_ ever talk about _your_ pain?”

“I…” Shiro’s words catch in his throat as he pulls back his hand.

“You can talk to me, too, you know,” Keith pleads, voice raw with emotion.

But Shiro just shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me. You have enough on your own plate.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith snaps, fire flaring in his eyes, “Maybe I want to worry about you!”

Shiro opens his mouth to argue, but Keith is already getting to his feet and heading for the door. Just as the door slides open, Shiro manages to blurt out, “It feels like I hit my funny bone.”

Keith looks back over his shoulder, his face softening.

“My arm,” Shiro continues, “It’s like I hit my funny bone, but it just… never quite goes away.”

Keith snorts softly and turns to lean against the nearest wall, “Sometimes it feels like someone put Icy Hot on my back. Right below my shoulder blade. Gets worse if I bend over. It’s weird.”

“Bodies are weird,” Shiro agrees, “Sometimes I feel like someone is digging around in my sinuses with a dental drill.”

Keith’s mouth quirks up in a smile, “You snore when you’re awake, now.”

Shiro groans in mock disappointment, “Aw man, I was hoping other people couldn’t hear that!”

“Oh, trust me,” Keith pushes away from the wall and makes his way back over to the bed, “We can _all_ hear it.”

Shiro chuckles and reaches out for Keith’s shoulder again. This time Keith leans into the touch.

After a moment of quiet, Shiro speaks up softly, “It’s a lot to get used to.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, scooting closer so his side nudges against Shiro’s, “It is.”

“At least we don’t have to do it alone,” Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulders, allowing his younger friend to nestle against his side.

“Don’t worry,” Keith mumbles into his friend’s shoulder, “I’ve got your back.”

Shiro smiles, “Same to you, buddy.”

After all, _Shiro is made of stars_. And what are stars without fire, anyways?

**Author's Note:**

> "All inflamed with the burning flames of fire" is a reference to The Book of Margery Kempe, and I'll have you know that I laughed for an entire evening when I figured out a way to stick that spectacularly redundant literary reference in this mostly-serious fic.
> 
> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


End file.
